Stonewall High
by VeronicaWeasley
Summary: Harry Potter has always been sure he was a wizard. After living for almost twenty years with that knowledge, he should be sure of that fact. But one day something changes that destroys everything he’s ever known. Harry wakes up in a Muggle hospital. Now, semi-friendless and confused, Harry has to adjust to life as a Muggle, and try to separate real life from his fictional reality.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. The world and it's characters belong to J.K. Rowling (unfortunately).**

**Stonewall High**

Prologue

_Winter, 1993_

It was late Sunday night, and snow was falling thickly through the air, limiting vision to only a few feet in front of one's face. Most students would be at home on a night like this, finishing up homework they had forgotten about the previous day, and packing their things for the dreaded Monday that was quickly approaching. However, there was one group of students who were not at home, and those were the members of the Stonewall High swim team, whose charter bus had just arrived back in the parking lot of their school. The parking lot was empty save for the cars belonging to team members, and the parents of the students who were too young to have a driver's license yet.

Harry Potter was one such student. He sat in his seat near the back of the bus, waiting patiently for the students ahead of him to gather their things and get off the bus, while simultaneously scanning the parking lot for his father's car, and wondering, for the tenth time, where Ron had been that day.

Ronald Weasley, known to everyone as Ron, was Harry's best friend, and a fellow Stonewall swimmer. He and his older brother, George Weasley, had been absent from the day's meet. This had greatly upset the team captain, Oliver Wood, who had complained loudly and at length about commitment and the social obligations of being part of a sports team. Harry had been equally upset, but for different reasons. He hadn't had any warning from Ron about his absence. This was odd, because Ron usually told Harry everything, and this sudden disappearance made Harry jump to every possible conclusion, most of which were absurd. Ron being gone also meant that Harry was left alone to face Draco Malfoy, his archenemy, who attended Stonewall's rival school, Pog's School of the Arts, known to all Stonewall High students as Pigfarts. Cho Chang, a girl whom Harry thought was very attractive, also attended Pigfarts, and Ron had promised to come along and offer moral support when Harry tried to talk to her during a break in the competition. With Ron gone, Draco Malfoy had been as annoying as usual, and Harry was too nervous to try and talk to Cho alone, particularly because she was surrounded by her posse of friends, as she almost always was.

So Harry had spent the day alone in silence, with the only person he talked to being an extremely odd girl with white-blonde hair, who had struck up a conversation with Harry while he waited for the heat ahead of him to finish.

"Potter!" A girl's commanding voice pulled Harry out of his reflection of the day. He looked up to see Angelina Johnson, Oliver Wood's second in command, looking at him with a tired expression. "Do you plan on sleeping on the bus? We've got to clean up." It was the job of the older students on the team to clean up anything trash left behind, as a way of making things easier for the bus driver. Unsurprisingly, they all hated having to clean up the mess left after a two-hour round trip. Harry always tried to leave his seat as clean as possible.

"Sorry, Angelina," he said quickly, pulling his bag onto his shoulders as he stood up and began making his way to the front of the bus.

"Harry, if you hear from George, tell him he's doing double his usual amount of work at the end of the next meet!" Angelina called after Harry's retreating back.

"Will do!" Harry yelled back, wondering if he would hear from the Weasleys at all before Monday.

Harry stepped off the bus, shivering from the cold despite the parka he was wearing over his sweatshirt. He had to squint to make out some of the cars that were parked further away from the entrance to the school, but he managed to find his dad's car, parked a few yards away with the engine still running. Harry dashed to the car as fast as he could while trying not to slip on ice, and was relieved to feel the warm interior of the car as he slid inside with his bag.

His father, James, greeted him with a warm smile. James looked a lot like Harry; he had the same untidy jet black hair and wore the same style of round glasses, though his lenses and frames were a bit bigger than his son's. James and Harry both had skin roughly the same shade of light brown, and though James was quite a bit taller than Harry, he looked so young that a stranger had once assumed the pair of them to be brothers. The only major difference between Harry and his father was the color of their eyes. James' eyes were hazel and there was always a mischievous glint in them, while Harry's were a bright emerald green, which he had inherited from his mother.

As Harry clicked his seat belt into place, James started a conversation by asking how the meet had gone.

"It was alright," said Harry as James exited the school parking lot. "I swam against Malfoy again. He won by a second."

"You'll get him next time, Harry," said James, a bit distracted the thick cover of snow that was impacting his vision. "Did you talk to that girl yet? What's her name, Charlie?"

"Cho," Harry corrected. "And no, I could never seem to catch her alone."

"That's the problem with girls. They're always with their friends."

Harry laughed at this. James was rarely seen without the company of his three best friends: Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew. Harry's mum had told him outright that the four men had been inseparable since their meeting on their first day at school, and had even told the (horror) story of how Sirius, Peter, and Remus has all been standing right there with James when he had come to pick her up for their first date during sixth year. Lily herself hadn't had many school friends, other than a guy named Severus she had known as a child, who was currently Harry's least favorite teacher at Stonewall.

James didn't call Harry out for laughing at him, the way he usually would have if it hadn't been so snowy. Instead, he remarked, "This is ridiculous. Winter only just started," while glaring at the snow piling on the car's windshield. Indeed, it was only late October, which made the current blizzard feel extremely unusual.

"It must be that global warming thing," Harry said, trying (and failing) to sound as if he actually knew what he was talking about, and hadn't just overheard his friend Hermione ranting about it to another student.

"Hmm." James said as they came to a stop at a red light.

"Maybe they'll cancel school tomorrow, because nobody will be able to drive anywhere." Harry imagined Hermione's face at the prospect of school being canceled, and he laughed to himself.

The light turned green, and James began driving slowly into the intersection. Out of nowhere, another car came swerving wildly into the path of the Potter automobile. It hit James' side with enough force to send Harry and his father sliding into the line of cars stopped on the right side of the intersection. The last thing Harry saw before his side of the car collided with another vehicle, knocking him unconscious, was the bright green light of the traffic signal, just before it turned yellow.


	2. 1

**Disclaimer: I don't think this showed up before the prologue, so I'm putting it here now. I own nothing. This world and all its characters belong to J.K. Rowling (unfortunately).**

Chapter One: Harry

_September, 2017_

_It was September first. Today was the day that Harry Potter's middle child, Albus Severus Potter, would start Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

_Ginny, Harry's wife, led the family through the crowded train station, followed by Harry's two sons. James Sirius, the eldest, was teasing his younger brother about the sorting ceremony. Albus glanced father with a worried expression as James gave a speech about how likely it was for Albus to be placed in Slytherin house._

_"Mum and Uncle Ron will probably disown you, Al," taunted James. "They won't be able to tolerate a Slytherin nephew."_

_"Dad!" Albus cried, looking to his father. _

_Harry sighed and let go of his daughter's hand. As Lily Luna ran to catch up with her mother, Harry stepped forward to diffuse the argument between his two sons. Years of being around Ron and Hermione's squabbles had prepared him for exactly this. _

_"James, didn't I tell you to quit teasing your brother?"_

_"I'm only saying there's a _possibility _of Al being in Slytherin," said James, trying to look innocent. _

_"Yes, but then you threatened to disown him if he was sorted into that house."_

_"_I _didn't threaten to disown him, I said that Mum-"_

_"We all heard what you said," Harry interrupted, "Now go walk with your mother and sister."_

_"But I haven't done anything!" James protested, walking away. _

_The Potter family was quiet as, one by one, they ran quickly through the barrier separating platforms nine and ten, walking through a cloud of steam onto platform nine-and-three-quarters, where the Hogwarts Express was getting ready to leave._

_While Ginny, Lily, and James went off in search of Ron and Hermione, Harry pulled Albus aside._

_"Don't listen to James," he said reassuringly, sitting his son down on a bench. "Most of what your brother says is full of sh- er, _dung."

_"But what if he's right?" Albus asked worriedly. "What if I do end up in Slytherin?"_

_"Then I'lol be proud of you, and so will your mother." Harry continued on with a speech about how one of the people Albus was named for had been in Slytherin, and how, if Albus really wanted to be in a particular house, the Sorting Hat would listen and take his feelings into account. "The point is, no one is going to disown you," Harry finished. _

_Albus laughed. "Let's go find the others." _

_As Harry stood up to follow his son and find the rest of their family, he felt a prickle on the back of his neck, like someone was staring at him. Turning around, Harry saw Draco Malfoy, standing a few yards away with his wife and son. Draco was staring right at Harry, with an expression Harry couldn't place. He looked away, touching the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, which was a nervous habit of his. This particular scar, which had burned off and on for seven years of Harry's life, had felt like nothing more than a scar for over a decade. Nothing more could possibly go wrong in Harry's life. All was well._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fall, 1994

Harry opened his eyes, surprised at the searing pain the small movement caused his head. There was a bright light above him, which made Harry want to close his eyes again, but that light was quickly blocked by someone coming to stand over him, so he kept his eyes open.

"I think he's finally woken up," said a familiar voice. Harry wondered if he was dreaming, for he felt sure that he was back in second year. The voice was identical to the one he had heard when he had regained consciousness on the Quidditch pitch, after having his arm broken by a Bludger gone rouge. As his eyes adjusted to the light, Harry's fear was confirmed. The face and voice above him belonged to Gilderoy Lockhart.

Harry groaned. "Why are you here?"

Lockhart laughed, which was a very Gilderoy Lockhart thing to do in this situation. "Do you remember what happened, Harry?"

_What do you mean, do I remember what happened? _Harry thought, but he answered the question anyway. "A Bludger knocked me off my broom."

Lockhart looked confused. "What on earth is a Bludger?"

Harry was confused too. Wasn't he on the Quidditch pitch. He tried to turn his head slightly, but couldn't, finding that there was a pillow beneath his head. And he realized he wasn't laying on grass, but cotton sheets. Maybe he was in the hospital wing? But if someone had actually gotten him to the hospital wing, what was Lockhart doing there? And why didn't he know what a Bludger was? This was turning out to be an incredibly weird dream.

"Harry, do you remember the accident?" Lockhart asked, rephrasing his previous question.

_What accident? _"I fell off my broom," Harry tried to explain again.

Lockhart shook his head and wrote something down on a clipboard. Then he walked away. Harry closed his eyes, hoping that would help him wake up. He wasn't enjoying this dream. His head hurt terribly, and he wanted to be awake and back in his normal life.

"He's very disoriented," Harry heard Lockhart say. The blonde man had come back into the room, and somebody else was with him, unless Lockhart had grown an extra set of legs. This was a dream, after all.

"That's to be expected, of course. I'm going to ask him a few questions, and then you can have some time alone with him." Whoever Lockhart was speaking to must have nodded, because he and his clipboard were back, this time sitting in a chair next to Harry's bed.

"How are you feeling, Harry?" Lockhart asked.

Harry wondered how long this dream was going to go on for. "I'm alright. But my head hurts."

Lockhart nodded. "Can you rate the pain for me, on a scale of one to ten?"

Harry thought about this. Sure, it hurt, but it wasn't as if he had a Basilisk fang stuck in his arm, or he was being tortured with the Cruciatus Curse. "Five."

Lockhart made a note of this. "You say you fell off a broom. Could you explain that, please."

Harry sighed. "I was playing Quidditch, and-"

Lockhart interrupted. "What is Quidditch?"

Harry rolled his eyes, which made his head hurt. "The only magical sport."

"Magical?"

"You know, for students at Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts?"

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"And what do people study at this 'school'."

"Witchcraft and Wizardry," said Harry, becoming increasingly annoyed with this conversation. "_Magic_."

"Hmm," said Lockhart. "Are you magical, Harry?"

"Yes, of course I am!" Harry exclaimed. "I'm Harry Potter!"

"Calm down please, Harry. What does being Harry Potter have to do with being magical?"

"I'm the most famous wizard who ever lived." Harry tried to keep his voice calm. "I defeated Voldemort."

Lockhart didn't not gasp. He only wrote some more notes, before asking, "Who is Voldemort?"

"You-Know-Who!"

"I'm afraid I don't know who."

"He's the worst dark wizard there ever was! You must know him!" Harry was shouting again. This was getting ridiculous. He just wanted to wake up and eat breakfast with Ginny and Lily Luna.

"Harry," said Lockhart calmly. "Wizards don't exist."

"Don't be silly," Harry said. "Of course they do."

Lockhart turned again to the person Harry couldn't see. "I think it would be best if you visited another day, Mrs. Potter."

Harry gasped at the sound of the name "Mrs. Potter". Using strength he hadn't known he had, he pushed himself up into a seated position on his hospital bed and called out to his mother, who was walking out of the room.

Lily Potter turned around so fast she nearly tripped over her own feet. "Harry?"

"Mum!" Harry exclaimed as she ran over to hug him. "I'm glad you're in this dream," he whispered as they embraced.

Lily pulled away, looking concerned. "You think this is a dream?"

Harry nodded. "I wish it wasn't, but it has to be if magic doesn't exist."

Lily's eyes filled with tears, and she backed away from her son. To Lockhart, she asked, "Are you sure he's going to be alright?"

Lockhart put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry. It's common for people to have dreams while comatose. Harry's just woken up, so it makes sense that he doesn't think any of this is real. We'll run some tests, and you can check back in a few days."

"Tests?" Harry asked, figuring he might as well get to be part of the conversation, as he was sitting right next to Lockhart and his mother. "But I'm fine."

"No Harry," Lily said. "You aren't fine. But you will be. Just listen to Dr. Lockhart, won't you?"

"_Doctor _Lockhart? He isn't a doctor."

"Yes he is. He's been in charge of monitoring you for months now."

"You should go," Lockhart told Lily. She nodded.

"I'll be back soon." Lily kissed the top of Harry's head. "Focus on getting well again, okay?"

"But I'm not sick," Harry insisted as his mother left the room.

He lay back down, frowning. He spent the next hour getting poked and prodded by various nurses testing his physical and mental state. All of the nurses resembled various people he had seen at St. Mungo's when he and the Weasleys had visited during his fifth year. Thinking of the Weasleys made Harry think about Ginny and his family again, and he wondered when he would wake up.

That night, as Harry tried to drift off to sleep, a doubtful thought edged its way into his brain. What if this truly wasn't a dream? What if magic really didn't exist?

Who was Harry Potter, if he wasn't a wizard?


	3. 2

**Hi everyone! I'm going to try my hardest to update more often (but I make zero promises). Before we start, I would like to thank the people who followed and favorited this story so far! Thanks so much! **

**Chapter Two: Hermione**

_August, 1994_

"Please, all I'm asking for is five minutes! I'm one of his best friends!" Hermione Granger insisted, pleading with the hospital receptionist.

The young man behind the desk rolled his eyes and flipped through a magazine. "Hermione, I already told you. Visiting hours are almost over. You'll have to come back tomorrow."

"_Almost _over. That means there's still time. If anyone asks, I'll just tell them I'm a volunteer." That wasn't completely a lie. Hermione had spent a good portion of her time volunteering at the hospital earlier that year. She had only quit the previous month because Ron had insisted she needed some free time, and Hermione had realized he was right. "_Please, _Percy."

"Hermione, I'm not allowed to bend the rules. Not even for you."

"But everyone here knows me anyway! And you know I would never insist on breaking the rules if it wasn't important."

"Come back tomorrow," said Percy. "And bring Ron with you."

"I've been trying to convince Ron to come visit with me all week, and he's said no every single time!"

"I'm not going to take pity on you because my brother is being a prat, if that's what you're expecting."

Hermione flopped down onto one of the seats closest to the reception desk and crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, can you give me a ride home?"

"Yes," said Percy exasperatedly, returning to his magazine, only to put it down again when a woman with red hair exited the hospital's main hallways.

The woman caught sight of Hermione, and her tired face broke into a grin. "Hermione!"

"Lily!" Hermione exclaimed, jumping up and embracing her friend's mother.

"It's been a long time," said Lily. "Are you here to see Harry?"

"Yes, but unfortunately I got here too late. Visiting hours are over now," Hermione gave Percy a disappointed look.

"Oh, surely you could make an exception for one of my son's best friends?" Lily asked Percy.

Percy looked conflicted. He was a stickler for the rules, but he had learned the hard way not to deny the parents of patients anything. "Five minutes. That's it."

"Thank you!" Hermione said happily, running off down the hallway and up the stairs to her friend's hospital room.

Upon reaching the room, she slowed down, coming to hover in the doorway for a moment before going in. She was a little afraid to go in; it had been awhile since her last visit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_July 31, 1994_

_"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Harry, happy birthday to you," Hermione sang softly, blowing out the candle shaped like the number four that sat atop her cupcake. On the other side of her best friend's bed, Lily Potter blew out a candle shaped like the number one on top of an identical cupcake. _

_Harry no longer looked like the best friend Hermione remembered. He was thin and sickly looking, as his only nourishment was provided through the tubes connected to his arm. The bruises he had received from the crash had healed long ago, and the only evidence of the accident was a large scar across his forehead, which George Weasley had decided resembled a bolt of lightning. Harry's mouth, which would have been smiling had he been awake, was frozen in a serious expression close to a grimace. Hermione didn't like to look at it for very long. She fiddled with the straps of the small gift bag that sat on the small table next to her._

_"What's that?" Lily asked, pointing to the present._

_"Oh, it's a birthday present. I figured I'd leave it for him when he wakes up."_

_"Could I open it?" _

_Hermione handed Harry's mother the small bag. She watched as Lily removed the single piece of tissue paper. The woman gasped when she saw what was inside. "Hermione..." _

_"I know it's kind of a weird present," Hermione said quickly. "But I knew his old ones got destroyed in the crash, and my parents have an eye doctor friend, being dentists and all, and I asked her to make these for him. They don't have any lenses, because I didn't know his prescription, and he can't very well get his eyes tested right now, but I thought he could use them."_

_"Thank you," said Lily, taking out the pair of round frames. "I didn't even think about him needing new glasses." _

_Hermione felt her eyes fill with tears as she watched Lily put the frames onto Harry's face. Lily noticed this, and walked around the bed to wrap an arm around the young girl._

_"I want him to be himself again," Hermione murmured, burying her face in the woman's shoulder._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hermione?" Harry had finally noticed his friend standing in the doorway.

Hermione ran to him, feeling relieved. "You remember me!"

"Of course I remember you," said Harry as the two of them hugged.

"I'm so glad you're finally awake."

"Yeah, me too," said Harry in tone that suggested otherwise.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing. I just had some weird dreams when I was unconscious, and I enjoyed them more than life in hospital."

Hermione smiled. "That makes sense. I can't imagine having to spend all day in bed."

"You can't. You rarely sleep as it is, with all the time you spend studying."

"You remember that about me?"

"How could I forget? You're Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age!"

Hermione took a step back. "I'm... what?"

Harry frowned. "Nothing. Sorry."

"Okay..." said Hermione hesitantly, deciding to change the subject. "So how are things here at the hospital?"

"Well, for starters, my doctor is a pathological liar."

"Really? I thought he was nice."

"He is," Harry said quickly. "What I mean is he tells a lot of stories that don't seem true."

"What sort of stories?"

"Supernatural stories, like how he went to Transylvania and argued with a vampire. Meanwhile, he lectures me for insisting magic is real."

"Oh, he's always been like that," laughed Hermione. "I don't know if you remember, but back in second year when he was one of our teachers, he had a book published detailing all of his crazy stories. None of them were true, of course. Later that year, he got on the news for plagiarizing another author's book. That's when the headmaster fired him."

"And you're absolutely sure the stories weren't true?"

"Positive. There isn't any such thing as a vampire or a werewolf."

"What about a wizard?" Harry wanted to know.

"No, those don't exist either," said Hermione slowly. "Why do you ask?"

Harry sighed. "Never mind."

"Harry, why do you keep mentioning-"

"Hermione!" Percy appeared in the doorway of Harry's room. "I've given you more than enough time already!"

Harry looked surprised to see the older boy. "Percy? You work here too?"

"Yes, unfortunately this is the only summer job I could manage to get. But I'm starting an internship this September, at Fudge Corporation. That's Cornelius Fudge, by the way."

"Um..."

"Tell Harry good night, Hermione," Percy ordered.

"Good night," Hermione told Harry, giving him another hug. "I'll come back soon, and I'll try to get Ron to come with me next time."

"What do you mean-"

But Harry's question was cut off by Percy dragging Hermione out of the room by her arm. She gave Harry a sorry expression as she was pulled away.

That night, while eating dinner with her parents, Hermione thought over her conversation with Harry. Some of the things he'd said kept sticking in her mind. "You're Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age!" "...he lectures me for insisting magic is real." "What about a wizard?" Witch, wizard, magic. Why did these things keep coming up in Harry's sentences? Why was he suddenly so obsessed with magic? And why did the phrase 'brightest witch of her age' sound so familiar to Hermione?

"How was the hospital visit?" Mr. Granger asked, bringing Hermione back into the conversation.

"Yes, how is Harry doing?" Mrs. Granger inquired.

"He's doing well," Hermione assured them. "He doesn't seem to be having memory problems."

"He wasn't acting odd, was he?"

"What do you mean, acting odd?"

"Well," said Mrs. Granger, "Lily mentioned something when she called the other day. Apparently, for the first few days he was awake, Harry thought his life was all a dream he was having. She said that he thought he was asleep, and in 'real life' he was a magician of some kind."

There it was again. Magic. What was Hermione missing? "No," she lied. "He didn't say anything like that."

"Good. He'll surely be able to go back to school when term starts, if he's stopped babbling about Hogwarts."

Hermione froze, a forkful of pasta halfway to her mouth. "Hogwarts?"

"Yes. It's the magical school he thought he went to. The doctor told Lily that Harry must have had some kind of dream when he was comatose."

Hermione dropped her fork. She suddenly remembered why all this talk of magic sounded familiar. "Can I be excused?" She asked, standing up.

"I suppose," said her father. "Is something wrong?"

"No, I've just remembered something I had forgotten earlier. I need to go write it down before I forget again." Hermione sprinted up the stairs to her room.

She could recall exactly where all those words had come from. Witch, wizard, and a school called Hogwarts. It was all making sense again now. She entered her room, heading straight to the phone sitting on her beside table. As fast as she could, she dialed the number that had taken her only a week to memorize.

The boy on the other line answered on the third ring. "Hello?"

"Hey, Ron. I went to see Harry today, and he kept talking about magic and how I was 'the brightest witch'. At first I couldn't remember where I'd heard all that before, but just now my Mum said something about Hogwarts, and I remembered! Anyway, I was wondering if you-"

Ron's end of the line clicked off. Thinking the power had cut out temporarily, Hermione dialed his number again."

"What?" He answered in an annoyed tone.

"Ron, we need to talk about Hogwarts."

His end of the line clicked off again. This time, Hermione was certain he had hung up on purpose.

**Please review with any questions or comments about what you liked or didn't like! I would really appreciate it.**


	4. 3

**To anyone who has followed or favorited this story so far, thank you so much!**

**And now, a review response:**

**JustVildaPotter: (Chapter 1 review) I'm so glad the year was worth the wait! I've had this idea sitting around for a while now, but I didn't have the motivation to actually write it down. But now, here it is! (Chapter 2 review) I'm happy you like all those things. Gilderoy Lockhart being Harry's doctor is one of my favorite parts of putting the wizarding world into the Muggle world. Yay, you liked everything! I'm hoping you'll enjoy this next chapter just as much.**

**Now, on with the story!**

**Chapter Three: Ron**

_August, 1994_

"Ronald Weasley! Answer the blasted phone!" Ron shook himself awake at the sound of his brother yelling from the kitchen. He sat up, and picked up the incessantly ringing phone that sat on a table next to the couch. He held it away from the receiver for a few seconds before slamming it back down. He sincerely hoped that Hermione would take the hint this time, despite the fact that she hadn't the last fifty times she'd tried calling. Ron wondered if his friend had gone to sleep at all. _She must have at some point, _he thought to himself, _otherwise Percy would have been yelling at me much sooner._

As this thought, Ron's eighteen-year-old brother appeared in the living room, holding a coffee mug and looking as if he needed more than the few hours of sleep he'd just had.

"Morning," said Ron in a pleasant tone, trying not to annoy his brother further.

"I hope you told Hermione to stop calling," said Percy, sinking into an armchair. "And it's afternoon, by the way."

"How do you know it was Hermione?" Ron asked. "It could have been someone trying to sell us something."

"Well, was it?" Ron did not reply. Percy went on. "Unless I'm quite mistaken, you haven't got any other friends, and aside from that, Hermione Granger is the only person I know who can call consistently every five minutes." Ron still didn't say anything. "What was it she wanted?"

Ron stared at a spot on the wall in front of him to avoid looking at Percy. "She wants me to go visit Harry in the hospital. She says he's woken up."

"That's true, I forgot to tell you last night. I assume you're planning on going today?"

"No. Why would I be?"

Percy sighed. "Come on Ron, you aren't still mad at him about... whatever it was you were mad at him for, are you?"

"I just don't want to see him, and I wish everyone would stop pestering me about it."

"Ron-"

Ron jumped up. "I'm not going to visit him, okay? Stop asking." He crossed the living room to the stairs leading to the two upper floors of the Weasley home. Running up as fast as he could, taking the steps two at a time, Ron slipped through the door to the attic.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_July, 1992_

_"My room is all the way at the top," Ron told Harry as they climbed the stairs. "We only had so many rooms on the second floor, and none of my older brothers wanted to share, so Ginny and I ended up here." Ron pulled open the door to the house's large attic. "I'm sure it's nothing compared to your room at home," he added, watching his friend take in the front half of the space, which was covered in bright orange posters for Ron's favorite sports team._

_"I think it's brilliant," said Harry, smiling at Ron. "It's loads bigger than my room at home. And you have someone else to share it with." He gestured to the curtain that separated Ron's half from Ginny's._

_"Please. I wish I had my own room. It's always so loud here, especially when Fred and George bring their friends over, which is all the time. And we're right above Dad's workroom. He's always making noise with whatever he's fixing, and then Mum comes up and shouts at him to be quiet."_

_"Where is your Mum today?" Harry asked. _

_"Oh..." said Ron awkwardly. "She's gone out with Ginny. They're, um, shopping. Yeah, school shopping."_

_"I thought we were all going together on Friday," said Harry, giving Ron a confused look._

_"Right!" Ron laughed nervously. "To be honest, I've completely forgotten what they went out to do, but I'm sure they'll be back soon."_

_Harry didn't seem to realize that Ron was lying to him, which Ron was relieved to see. "Until then, you can enjoy having your room to yourself."_

_"Yes!" Ron grinned, and slid over the bed to grab the chess set sitting on a shelf on the opposite side. "I hereby challenge you to a battle."_

_Harry quickly took a seat on the bedroom floor. "Challenge accepted." _

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The attic door creaked open, and Ron turned his head to see who had entered.

"Knock knock," George said, tapping on the doorframe.

Ron sighed. "Come in."

George closed the door behind him and took a seat on the end of the bed. "Hermione keeps calling you. It sounds like she really needs to discuss something."

"She still hasn't realized that I don't give a crap?" Ron asked, sitting up in a cross-legged position.

"That's a bit harsh. What if it's something important?"

"It isn't." Ron stared at his knees.

"Right, well, you should at least tell her you don't care."

"She'll figure it out."

George shook his head. He knew this conversation was going nowhere. He turned his gaze to the curtain that cut the room in half. "You know, if you wanted to, we could make this room bigger. It's probably about time."

"I'm fine with my room as is, thanks."

"Ron, I really think you should-"

"Why does everyone keep trying to get me to change everything? I like things the way they are, is that so hard to understand?"

"We're only trying to help you, Ron, but you're so stubborn."

"_I'm _stubborn? What about Mum? I don't see you trying to get her to move on with her life."

"That's different. A lot has happened in the last year, and-"

"Yeah, a lot happened to all of us. But I guess Mum's the only one who's allowed to care at all, is she?"

"That's not what I said."

Ron stood up. "You know what? I think I will go talk to Hermione. At least I'll be talking to someone who actually wants to hear what I have to say."

"I've been trying to talk to you!" George protested, but Ron had already stormed downstairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_August, 1992_

_An argument had broken out over breakfast, as per usual for the Weasleys. The subjects of this argument were, of course, Molly and the twins. Apparently, they had stolen the car and taken it to a friend's party late the previous night. Molly was shouting at them, telling them they were reckless, that they could have been seriously hurt, and that they were much too young to be doing either of those activities. Fred laughed this off in the carefree way of his, which only made Molly angrier. As she reprimanded his twin, George had a guilty look on his face, as if he seriously regretted what the two of them had done. However, this expression vanished the second Molly turned her wrath on George, at which point he quickly started going along with whatever Fred had been saying._

_Ron barely paid attention to the scuffle; he was used to it, after all, and wanted to focus on his breakfast instead. __Across from him, Harry was watching the argument with concern, and Ginny was leaning her head on her hand, with the look of someone who was attempting to sleep but was being prevented from doing so._

_"Must this happen _every _morning?" She asked sleepily. _

_"This happens _every _morning?" Harry asked incredulously. _

_"Just about," said Ron, focusing on his sister. "Ginny, you alright?"_

_She nodded. "I'm a bit tired, that's all."_

_"You should go rest."_

_"I'm fine, really."_

_"But yesterday-"_

_"I thought you didn't want to talk about yesterday," Ginny accused in a hushed tone, looking toward Harry, who was still amazed by the argument._

_"Right." Ron returned to his breakfast. He continued to glance at Ginny every few minutes, unable to shake the worries he was keeping hidden._

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

Ron didn't go to Hermione's house right away. For a while he wandered around the neighborhood, fuming about his conversations with George and Percy. It was only after he realized he had walked the same route at least three times that he figured he had better actually go visit his friend.

Hermione's house was a large, two story home, situated in the part of the neighborhood that separated the richest families with the biggest houses from the middle class families or poor families like Ron's. Hermione had a bedroom on the top floor, and Ron would have greatly enjoyed standing on her lawn throwing pebbles at the window to catch her attention. To his disappointment, she was sitting outside on the porch when he arrived. As usual, his friend was immersed in a book. Her head was tilted down, and her extremely bushy, dark hair surrounded every bit of her face, blocking all peripheral vision.

"Hey," Ron said, standing at the bottom of her front steps and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Hermione looked up from her book and turned to face him. Her chocolate brown eyes had a slightly angry look in them. "You've finally decided to talk to me. Thanks for returning my calls, by the way."

"I'm sorry."

"You know I hate it when you act like this."

"Go on, say it: I'm a prat."

Hermione snapped her book closed and stood up. She picked up something that had been sitting beside her on the porch swing and walked down the steps to meet Ron. "Yes, Ron Weasley, you are a prat." Hermione tossed him a packet of crisps, then took a seat on the bottom step.

Ron looked at her, stunned, before taking a seat as well. "You knew I was coming?"

Hermione smiled. "I know you better than anyone, Ron."

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter!** **Sorry it took a while for me to post it.**** Ron's parts of the story are going to be a bit confusing for some time, because I'm leaving it up to Harry to figure out what the heck has been going on. I promise everything will be explained later.**

**Please review and tell me what you did or didn't like, and I'll see you next time!**


	5. 4

**This chapter took forever, because I was a bit stuck on what to write. So, have a lack-of-motivation filler chapter.**

**But first, a review response:**

**d1n0s: Thanks for reviewing! Apologies in advance, because I'm basically throwing all my angst potential for this story on Ron and the Weasleys. Why? I don't know. Anyway, glad you liked it. Here's the new chapter, after two months of waiting.**

**And...We're back!**

Chapter Four: Harry

_End of August, 1994_

Harry spent the rest of his time in the hospital counting down the days until he would be discharged. It wasn't all bad; Hermione and his mum came to visit almost every day, and Hermione would tell him everything that was going on in her life. Though these stories weren't always particularly interesting, anything was better than sitting alone in silence. Often, when he was alone, Harry wondered why he only had two people coming to visit him, before it occurred to him that no one in this Muggle version of his life was as obsessed with him as they had been in the wizarding world. But there were some absent people that raised internal questions. Ron, in particular.

Every time Hermione visited, Harry asked about Ron. The first few times, she promised that he would be with her the next time, only to have this promise fall apart the next time she visited alone. After that, Hermione tactfully changed the subject every time Harry asked about Ron or any of the Weasleys.

"Ron will visit soon, I'm sure," she said today, after Harry had beaten her at chess for the third time.

"Does 'soon' mean at some point within the next hour? Prof- er, _Doctor _Lockhart said that I should be able to leave today."

"He'll see you at school next week, then."

"What's wrong with him?"

"What do you mean?"

"Ron's my best friend and he hasn't visited once. That's not like him at all."

"He's been...busy. That's all, I promise."

"Huh."

Hermione went quiet and stared at a spot on the wall behind Harry as she avoided meeting his eyes. Then she glanced at her watch. "Sorry, Harry, I have to go."

"Are you coming back later?"

"No, I don't think so," she stood up hurriedly. "But I'll see you tomorrow, probably."

Harry watched Hermione rush out of the room, apparently late to some important event. It was only after she had left that he realized she had forgotten the chess set. She had brought it so that they would have something to do while they talked. Harry and Hermione both knew that Hermione was miserable at the game, but it helped to dispose of the awkward silences when they ran out of things to talk about.

Left on his own, Harry tried playing against himself, but that was just as boring as he had expected it to be. He put the pieces back in their proper places and set the board aside. If there was one thing that reminded him of Ron, it was chess. Harry could still vividly remember the life-size game they had played at the end of their first year at Hogwarts. Harry wondered if something similar had actually happened in the Muggle world, or if he had completely imagined it. The idea that the best years of his life had all taken place in a dream world continually put Harry's stomach in knots. How could that all have been fake?

Harry picked up one of the knight pieces, examining it. He hadn't noticed before, but this chess set looked exactly like the pieces of McGonagall's giant chess set. The only difference was that these pieces were normal-sized and could not move on their own. Harry wondered where the set had come from, as well as if McGonagall was a real person in this world. As he was making a mental note of these questions, Hermione reappeared in the doorway.

"I just realized I left that behind," she said breathlessly, glancing quickly behind her. Harry noticed two people walking up behind her, but he didn't care to figure out who they were at the moment.

"About that: I was just wondering where it came fr-"

Before Harry could finish the question, the two people Harry hadn't been paying attention to entered the room. They were a pair of men Harry had thought he would never see again. The hospital room began to spin. Harry felt his heart rate speed up. He couldn't seem to accomplish the simple task of breathing normally.

"Surprise!" Hermione exclaimed, grinning before she noticed what was happening to her friend.

The last things Harry took in before he lost consciousness were the smiling faces of his father's two best friends, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black.

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

_It was Harry's third year. Professor Lupin had just prevented Harry from facing a boggart in class; it turned into the moon. Harry was having tea with Lupin because he couldn't go to Hogsmeade on Halloween. They spent late nights in the Hogwarts staff room, as Lupin taught Harry how to fight off dementors. Harry was in a dilapidated old house, looking at Sirius the mass murderer and Lupin the werewolf. It was later that same night, and Harry was blasting dementors away from his godfather. He watched Sirius ride off into the night on the back of Buckbeak, the hippogriff. _

_And then he was in Lupin's office again, watching him pack to leave the school. _

_And it was fourth year; he was writing to Sirius as often as possible, filling him in on how life was with the Dursleys. He was talking to Sirius' head in the fire, getting dragon-fighting tips. He, Ron, and Hermione visited Sirius in a cave on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. They brought him food and talked about Voldemort's potential return. _

_And suddenly it was Harry's fifth year, Voldemort had come back, and he was seeing Lupin and Sirius together at Grimmauld Place. Sirius was arguing about Harry's guardianship with Molly Weasley. And then Harry had brought his friends to the Ministry, Sirius had fallen through the veil, and Bellatrix Lestrange was cackling._

_Then it was the aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts. Lupin was lying on a stretcher next to his wife. He was dead._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Harry? Harry!" His mother's frantic voice brought Harry back to consciousness. He felt shaken from reliving all those memories, or parts of a dream, or whatever they were. Hermione's face looked down at him too, looking just as worried as Lily.

"What happened?" Harry heard Lockhart ask.

"We walked in, and I think he went into shock," Lupin's voice responded. Harry felt his breath catch in his chest. _So they are real._

"That's odd," said Lockhart, "but I don't think it's anything to be concerned about."

"Of course it's something to be concerned about!" Sirius exclaimed. "Harry just had a panic attack from two people walking into a room!"

"Given what he's been through, this sort of thing is not all that surprising. It may simply be a delayed response to the trauma of the car crash."

"Ridiculous," said Lupin, but in Harry's mind it sounded like: "Riddikulus", and he tried not to collapse again, even though all he could think about was seeing these two men die.

"Harry, what exactly happened?" Hermione asked, bringing everyone's attention to him in order to diffuse any potential arguments.

"I-" Harry's eyes fell on Sirius, who looked angry and concerned at the same time, an expression Harry had missed seeing. He quickly looked away, wishing all these people would go away so he could speak with Sirius alone. "I-" How could he explain those memories from the wizarding world? How could he tell his godfather that he had seen him die, or tell Lupin about seeing his dead body, and raising his son after all the battles were over? He couldn't tell anyone these things. At least, not yet. They would think something wasn't right in his brain and want to keep him at the hospital longer. "It's nothing," Harry found himself saying. "Just the, er, trauma thing, like Lockhart said."

"Harry," Lupin said kindly, "If something's wrong, you can tell us. You don't have to lie."

"I'm not lying!" Harry yelled, the phrase feeling so familiar it scared him. Instinctively, he glanced at the back of his right hand, expecting to see the phrase _I must not tell lies _permanently scarred there. But of course it wasn't. Because that had never really happened. He lowered his voice, avoiding eye contact with everyone. "I just want to go home."

"What do you think, doctor?" Lily asked.

"Well..." Lockhart tapped his clipboard, looking deep in thought. "If Harry truly thinks he's okay, I wouldn't see any problem with sending him home. However, if something like this happens again, I would strongly suggest bringing him back here."

Lily sighed and patted Harry's hand with her own. "Are you sure you're ready to go home?"

"Yes, completely sure," assured Harry.

"Okay." Lily got up, allowing Harry to swing his legs out of the bed and stand up himself. "Let's go home."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The drive to what Harry was privately calling his "new" home was unbearably quiet. Hermione had used one of the hospital phones to call her parents and ask them to take her home, and Sirius and Lupin had left as well, promising Harry that they would celebrate his return another time. _When I don't faint at the sight of them, _Harry told himself now, staring out the car window. It was just him and Lily in the car. His mum hadn't said anything since they pulled out of the hospital parking lot, but she kept shooting Harry worried glances as if she expected him to collapse at any moment. Which wasn't surprising, given what had happened earlier, but Harry didn't like it.

"I'm fine, Mum, really." He said, to break the silence. He wanted to say something more, to start up a conversation, but what did one say to the mother one had never known? Harry supposed that in this reality, he had grown up with her, but he had no recollection of that. He kept hoping his memories of this life would return suddenly, to give him something to work with, but so far the only memory flashes had been from his life in the wizarding world.

"So you've said," Lily replied, keeping her eyes on the road. "Repeatedly."

Harry tried a new topic. "Have you, uh, heard from Aunt Petunia?"

"Aunt Petunia?" Lily sounded surprised. "No, I haven't talked to her since your-" Abruptly, Harry's mother slammed her foot down on the brake. It took Harry a moment to notice she had only done it to stop herself from saying something she didn't want to say; there hadn't been a car coming out of nowhere. The two Potters were alone on the road.

"You haven't talked to her since..." Harry prompted.

"Since, er, since you were little."

Harry rolled his eyes at the car ceiling. "Right, okay." Did everything have to be a secret?

After what felt like a hundred years of silence, Lily finally turned the automobile into their plain suburban neighborhood. As Harry looked around at the cookie-cutter houses, his stomach dropped down to his toes. It was all too familiar. And then he saw the house. The unsuspecting, two-story home that he had dreaded coming back to every summer.

"We- we don't actually live _here_?" Harry whipped around to face his mum as they came to a stop in the driveway.

"Of course we live here. This is our home." Lily's worried look was back. "Why, what's wrong with it?"

"It's just-" _This is where the Dursleys lived. This is the house where no one cared if I lived or died. For almost eleven years_, _I slept under the stairs. I can't be back here. I can't. _"Not what I was expecting, for some reason. I dunno."

"I'm sure you're very tired, after everything that's happened today. Come on," Lily got out of the car, Harry following behind. "We can unpack everything in the morning."

Harry trailed after his mother; she walked up the porch steps and pulled out a key to unlock the door. As she did so, Harry glared at the brass number four nailed to the outside of the door, wishing he was being pranked.

Once again, he was back at Number Four, Privet Drive.

**Okay, I'm calling that good. Yes, Harry is back at Privet Drive. Hopefully the next chapter is easier for me to write.**

**Before I post this, I want to say that though I am writing stories based on her work, I do not support any of JK Rowling's views on LGBTQ people or otherwise.**

**Trans women are women. Trans men are men. Non-binary people are people. And so on and so forth. You are all valid, and I wish JKR would shut her mouth.**

**Have a great day, and I'll see you next time!**


End file.
